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September 04, 2017

The first hand-drawn rendering of the Image Dissector, ca. 1922. Arguably, every video display on the planet - including the one you are looking at now – can trace its origins to this drawing

Sadly, the myth that television was "too complex" for a single individual to invent persists.

With its September 4, 2017 edition, The New Yorker magazine delivered its first-ever "Television Issue," featuring articles mostly on said subject. In a preamble to The Television Issue that appeared only on the magazine's website, How Television Became Art, editors Joshua Rothman and Erin Overbey site an essay by Malcolm Gladwell that first appeared in the pages of The New Yorker back in May of 2002.

Gladwell's The Televisionary: Big Business and the Myth of the Lone Inventor starts out as an expansive review of two books about Farnsworth that were published in 2002: The Last Lone Inventor, by Evan I. Schwartz and The Boy Genius and the Mogul, by Daniel Stashower (no mention of a third book on the subject also published that year). In the essay/review, Gladwell starts out on the right foot, stating rather unequivocally that "Philo T. Farnsworth was the inventor of television...." but he then discounts the epic nature of Farnsworth's invention by asserting the obvious observation that raw inventions require refinement: "Everyone was working on television," Gladwell wrote, "and everyone was reading everyone else’s patent applications, and, because television was such a complex technology, nearly everyone had something new to add."

Rothman and Overbey reinforce this conclusion when they cite Gladwell, adding: "The truth was that television was an incredibly complex technology; hundreds, even thousands, of engineers had contributed to perfecting it."

I don't dispute that television was "a complex technology" and that "hundreds, even thousands" of brilliant minds took a raw invention and made it suitable the commercial marketplace.

But what Gladwell, Rothman and Overbey continue to ignore is that Farnsworth's contribution was not, as Rothman and Overbey write, "one of the first working television cameras." It was THE FIRST all electronic television camera, and as such was a breakthrough of epic proportions. The Image Dissector puts a pin in pivotal moment in human evolution that has for too long been uncelebrated – despite the fact that Farnsworth subsequently delivered more than his share of improvements, including the Image Orthicon tube that was the foundation of the broadcast industry in the late 1940s and 1950s.

I have taken it upon myself to send a "Letter to the Editor" of the New Yorker, hoping that it will find its way to Rothman, Overbey, and maybe even Gladwell. I frankly have little hope that my words will find their way into the pages of the august New Yorker, so I post them here:

Subject Header: Television, Art – and Seminal Genius

To the Editor:

The online preamble to your recent Television Issue (How TV Became Art by Joshua Rothman and Erin Oberbey; NewYorker.com August 28, 2017) begins with a reference to Malcom Gladwell’s 2002 essay in which he discounted the contribution of Philo T. Farnsworth in the advent of the medium. This dismissal tragically repeats one of the recurring misconceptions of television’s technical origins.

In 1922, Farnsworth - then all of 15 years old - drew for his high-school science teacher a sketch of a simple but elegant device, which he would later dub the “Image Dissector.” He built and successfully tested the device for the first time on September 7, 1927.

This was not, as Rothman and Oberbey assert, “one of the first working television cameras.” This was the first all electronic television camera.

The distinction is not insignificant.Rather, it represents a pivotal moment in the evolution of modern technology, since it abandoned the Newtonian contrivances of the 19th Century for the relativistic physics of the 20th – all in the pursuit of “moving pictures that could fly through the air.”

To say that “television was an incredibly complex technology; hundreds, even thousands, of engineers had contributed to perfecting it…” discounts a breakthrough of epic proportions in what mankind could do with quantum forces and particles. Farnsworth was the first to focus and steer electrons in a manner that cleared the path for the most ubiquitous appliance in human history.

As I write, we are days away from the 90th anniversary of the arrival of television-as-we-know-it on this planet – an event of historical significance which will be sadly overlooked because of the sort of sentiments expressed first in essay’s like Gladwell’s, and now reiterated by Rothman and Overbey.

Farnsworth’s invention made everything that came before it obsolete, and everything that came after it possible. Every video screen on the planet - including the one on which I am typing this message, and the one on which you will no doubt read it - can trace its origins to that sketch (attached below).

That sketch demonstrated a measure of genius that is demonstrated only a handful of times in any given century. In this case, it is a forgotten genius that is re-awakened billions of times every day – every time a television is turned on.

I hope you’ll share this news with your readers.

Thanks,

Paul Schatzkin

Pegram, TN

P.S. At least pass this on to Gladwell - he might want to revisit the subject for his podcast, “Revisionist History.”

There is no small irony of timing here: This coming Thursday is September 7 - the 90th Anniversary of the moment in 1927 when television as we know it first arrived on this planet.

That date should be etched in our collective memories. If it were, then The New Yorker could have tied their September 4, 2017 issue - the first "Television Issue" – into that commeration.

It is only because of the "too complex..." interpretation of reporters like Gladwell, Rothmans and Overbey's that the of the epic notability of the occasion has instead been pushed under the rug of history.

June 17, 2014

Jessica Moulton, with her grand uncle Skee Farnsworth and cousin Philo Krishna Farnsworth, accepting the induction of Philo Farnsworth into the TV Academy's Hall of Fame, along with Ron Howard, also inducted on March 11, 2013

Ladies and Gentlemen, please meet Jessica Lauren Moulton - the great-grandaughter of Philo and Pem Farnsworth. Her mother Camille Moulton is the daughter of Kent Farnsworth, Philo and Pem’s youngest son (born 1949).

Jessica has taken up the family torch, and now stands firmly in the vanguard of the quest to to properly tell an epic tale has remains largely suppressed through four generations.

Jessica comes by her advocacy honestly: she heard these stories first hand, as a child, growing up in the loving arms of her great-grandmother – Pem Farnsworth

Jessica is now at same age now that her great-grandparents were when they delivered electronic video to this planet in 1927.

It is fitting then that she would carry this story for the next generation and the future generations that stand to derive the full benefit of the changes that were first put in motion when her great-grandfather dreamed of bouncing electrons around in a vacuum tube.

The letter that follows was submitted by Jessica to the San Jose Mercury news as a response to the paper’s coverage of the opening of the Palo Alto Players production of The Farnsworth Invention. More precisely, Jessica writes in response to a letter from playwright Aaron Sorkin published in the same paper the day the play opened. She also takes issue with the inclusion of Steven Player – a previously unknown descendant of the Farnsworth family – who is participating in the production in a manner that implies the family’s approval of the manner in which Mr. Sorkin has treated the source material.

The Mercury News declined to print Jessica’s letter. Farnovision.com is pleased to print it in full:

To whom it may concern:

Respectfully and firmly I am taking the opportunity to express not only my distaste for The Farnsworth Invention, but also my deep hurt that a nephew of my great-grandfather would support this play so lightly. He does not see the harmful damage it causes to my great-grandmother, Elma “Pem” Farnsworth’s only wish; to have her husband’s truth told to the world.

The story of television cannot be told without his wife Elma “Pem” Farnsworth. In her forward of her biography of her husband, Distant Vision, she quotes her husband, “You can do it if you really want to, but you can’t write about me without writing about us, we are one person.” Little did she know this conversation would be one of their last.

Pem spent the next 35 years of her life praising her husband to all that would listen. She published the biography Distant Visionin 1990 with the help of her son Kent Farnsworth. Over time she attracted enough attention to land a seven-hour interview with the Archive of American Television conducted on June 25, 1996 by Jeff Kisseloff. On September 22, 2002 she was present at the 54th Annual Emmy Awards when the Academy of Arts and Sciences recognized Philo T. Farnsworth as the “inventor of electric television.” At this point, the Farnsworth family thrives on the idea that finally, the truth is being told.

Then on December 04, 2007, Aaron Sorkin conducted an interview with Jeff Lunden of National Public Radio about his play The Farnsworth Invention as it was about to open on Broadway. He speaks about how he intentionally chose to do a play because the men (Farnsworth and David Sarnoff of RCA) had never met and he could tell the story the way he wanted to. In more recent new quotes he responds to any public disdain that his objective is to entertain.

The immediate family and friends of Philo T. Farnsworth and his wife have spent hours dissecting the play and all of its inaccuracies. Such analysis can be found at www.thefarnsworthinvention.com. While this website gives the Farnsworths great comfort, it is difficult to get more eyes on this page when an ever watchful audience would rather be “entertained.”

Aaron Sorkin is a business man as much as he is a writer. It is not his concern if he offends anyone. His goal, as he says himself is to entertain. I do not expect such a man to change or apologize.

But I am stunned that anyone directly related to one of the most remarkable men of the century would so lightly support such an insult of a play.

My intentions are to clarify that the Farnsworth family DOES NOT support this play. We have gone to many lengths to discredit the play as it has caused our family more grief than benefit. I am so surprised that you have connected with the only member of the gene pool that wanted a moment in the spotlight supporting The Farnsworth Invention. I suppose there is a reason we have never met.

June 02, 2014

"The most effective lies are the ones built around a fragile germ of truth." --Andy Greenwald

Please step aside as I dust of my lance and go looking for windmills one more time...

For... ohm'god has it really been seven years now! – Aaron Sorkin's play The Farnsworth Invention has presented a loosely twisted interpretation of the events surrounding the advent of television in the 3rd and 4th decades of the 20th Century.

Since the play first previewed in San Diego in the spring of 2007 and premiered on Broadway later that year, several (countless?) regional theater companies have mounted productions of this ambitious - but deeply flawed (both from dramatic and historic perspectives) endeavor.

The latest production will open later this month at at the Lucie Stern Theater in Palo Alto, CA - right there in the heart of Silicon Valley.

The Valley is a region that has arguably done more to utilize Farnsworth's invention than any other place on earth. For years, computers used cathode ray tubes to monitor their operations. And, while the technology may be vastly different now, the fact remains that every video screen on the planet can trace its origins back to Farnsworth's first patents.

You might think a region with that kind of history of association would have a special interest in a recounting of the actual events as recorded by history – or, at least, a reasonable facsimile of the personalities involved.

Alas, it's the same old story. In a recent email exchange with the Palo Alto Players, they insist that The Farnsworth Invention is "a work of fiction" at the same time they promote it as a "real life battle..."

What follows is an open letter to the Palo Alto Players, offered here in the hope that it can find some traction among readers and theater goers who will be attending performances later this month:

The 19th century philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer is often quoted for having said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident."

It is probably fortunate for Schopenhauer that he did not live long enough to see the fourth phase that the Truth must now endure:

The Hollywood version.

That is precisely what audiences experience every time another production is mounted of Aaron Sorkin’s play, The Farnsworth Invention – as the Palo Alto Players will do next month: a fabrication in which the common practice of ‘dramatic license’ is utilized to such an extent that it delivers its audience to a demonstrably inaccurate historical conclusion.

In other words, The Farnsworth Invention achieves that fourth phase of evolution where the truth actually becomes a falsehood. It’s a neat trick, and one that perhaps only as skilled a wordsmith as Aaron Sorkin could pull off.

In the process of telling two sides of an admittedly complex tale, audiences are effectively deprived of the essential, still neglected truth at the heart of the story: that the advent of television in its purely electronic form – the only form of television that truly matters – was a breakthrough of epic proportions.

The invention of television deserves a place in the pantheon of human achievement alongside Morse’s “What hath God wrought,” Edison’s tungsten filament, Bell’s “Watson, come here,” Tesla's dreams, Marconi’s “S” and the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk. Sadly, The Farnsworth Invention does nothing to elevate its namesake to the stature he deserves.

One need only look at the mechanical contraptions that preceded Farnsworth’s contribution to appreciate the (literally) quantum leap that removed all the moving parts except the electron itself from the equation. Farnsworth’s ability to focus and steer electrons to a previously unprecedented degree represents a breakthrough in what mankind could do with the fundamental forces of the universe.

Despite its elaborate attempts at exposition, you will learn none of this in The Farnsworth Invention.

Instead, audiences are treated to a portrayal of the of the inventor as a stumbling fool, no match for the conniving brilliance of his corporate rivals. Audiences will leave the theater thinking that David Sarnoff and his minions at RCA managed to pull a fast one on the patent office, that in the end “priority of invention” was awarded to Vladimir Zworykin – Farnsworth’s rival and David Sarnoff’s accomplice/stooge.

One consequence of this fable that has dogged The Farnsworth Invention since its opening on Broadway in the fall of 2007 is that every production has been compelled to issue printed disclaimers – sidebar attempts to inform the audience of the degree to which artistic license has distorted the historical facts apart from what appears on the stage.

Consequently, audiences will leave the theater having been thoroughly entertained by a production that actually contradicts its own reason for existing: If ‘priority of invention’ had in fact been awarded to Zworykin and RCA as it is portrayed in the play, then there would simply be no reason to be talking about Farnsworth today.

The fact is that Farnsworth won his litigation on every meaningful count. And, given RCAs dominance of the field at the time, this accomplishment is every bit as monumental in the context of its day as was the original invention.

In the context of our day, it is perhaps even more tragic to see these achievements given such short shrift on a stage in Silicon Valley – a region that has certainly done more with Farnsworth’s invention than any other place on Earth. While the technology may be vastly different from what first emerged in Farnsworth’s laboratory in the 1920s, every video screen that we carry in our pockets today traces its origins back to that moment in September 1927 when 20 year old Philo T. Farnsworth delivered electronic video to this planet.

Farnsworth’s Green Street laboratory was the quintessential 20th century startup, and should indeed serve as a model for today’s inventive and entrepreneurial spirit. Unfortunately, Aaron Sorkin’s portrayal leaves us to believe that Philo Farnsworth was weak, ineffectual and alcoholic. There is no inference of Farnsworth’s relentless decade of inventive brilliance, a seed that might have grown into the Google of its day had it not been crushed in the garden by the likes of David Sarnoff.

Instead we are left with the impression of an incompetent who had only created what the play calls “a light problem,” and who is so lost in his haze that he turns to a Hollywood starlet at one point and asks if she can solve the problem. Theatrically amusing, perhaps, but historically bogus.

The production is then left to correct these impressions in a playbill, rather than on the actual stage.

I write now simply to implore you to add this to your playbill:

The invention of television was a breakthrough of epic proportions. The magnitude of the achievement is obscured in this telling of the tale. Nevertheless we hope audiences will leave the theater with new appreciation for what Philo Farnsworth actually accomplished. His achievement represents the very best of our species: an unbridled but unheralded genius that is reawakened every time we turn on a television or an iPhone.

The Farnsworth Invention recounts the inventing of television precisely as RCA and its corporate heirs have been telling the story for some eight decades.

In final scene of The Farnsworth Invention, our protagonist is seen drowning his sorrow at a bar while lamenting that he has “just lost television.” I do recognize what the playwright is attempting to do here, for given the ensuing course of history it is arguable that Farnsworth did, indeed, “lose” television.

The value of a dramatic expererience like The Farnsworth Invention should be to restore the rightful recognition of a great achievement.

To myself and others who know the story intimately, it seems that Farnsworth continues to “lose television” every time another production of this play is mounted.

April 20, 2014

The article is a look back at the introduction of television at the NYC World's Fair in April, 1939 - the one where David Sarnoff famously and pompously pronounced, "Now we add sight to sound."

"Philo Farnsworth, one of TV’s inventors who had famously sparred with NBC chief David Sarnoff over patents, scoffed at the fair organizer’s (and Sarnoff’s) declaration that TV had been born on April 30, 1939: “The baby is being born with a full beard,” Farnsworth said.... Nevertheless, television as we now know it was born 75 years ago this month."

That last line is more bullshit corporate propaganda. "Television as we know it" was "born" on September 7, 1927, in Fansworth's laboratory in San Francisco. The NBC sponsored demonstration at the World's Fair in 1939 was more like the commencement exercise.

April 05, 2013

I suppose I should post some photos, but the whole experience was... well, let's just put it mildly and say that it was discouraging, and leave it at that. Maybe there will be more to say in the future. Maybe not. In the meantime you can see some photos and find links to the video recordings of the event at PhiloInTheHall.com

While we were there, we hung out some with Phil Savenick, whose home in
Westwood is a museum of old TeeVees - complete with a shrine to
Farnsworth.

One highlight of the time in LA, however, was getting to spend a little bit of time with Jessica Farnsworth Moulton, the great-grandaughter of Pem and Philo Farnsworth. Jessica had a very nice speech in which she was going to accept the award on behalf of the next generation of Farnsworths, who, she promised, would not rest until the true story is told (this was going to be delivered in the presence of Aaron Sorkin, who the Academy chose to present the induction to the family).

But, this was an awards show, and you know how those things go: the music started playing before Jessica had a chance to say her piece. You can read what was loaded in the teleprompter before they cut her off at PhiloInTheHall.com

Some of the Farnsworths, including Jessica, stuck around LA for a few days after the banquet. While she was there, Jessica joined forces with Phil Savenick to produce this little video that pretty well sums up the case:

February 23, 2013

There's been an increase in traffic to this site in the past week or so, which is quite possibly a result of the recent news that Philo T. Farnsworth - arguably the man who started it all - will be inducted next month into the Television Hall of Fame:

This
year’s honorees include Emmy®-winning actor/director/producer Ron
Howard, legendary sportscaster Al Michaels, iconic network executive
Leslie Moonves, acclaimed journalist Bob Schieffer and prolific
writer-producer Dick Wolf. Additionally, Philo T. Farnsworth, credited
with inventing all-electronic television transmission, will be inducted
posthumously. The inductees will be honored during a gala ceremony at
The Beverly Hilton Hotel on March 11, 2013, which is sponsored by Audi®.
The Hall of Fame gala will be executive produced by noted television
producer Phil Gurin (Oh Sit!, Shark Tank, The Singing Bee).

Of course, whenever the name of Philo T. Farnsworth bumps up against the established interests in the industry his invention spawned, controversy looms in the wings.

But this event will a reunion of sorts for a lot of people who have been carrying the Farnsworth torch for a long time A lifetime in the case of all those Farnsworths, nearly four decades in the case of this writer.

The occasion is also an opportunity to pass that torch on to a new generation (apologies to JFK).

It stands to be a joyous occaasion for all concerned, and while the interest of setting the record straight after decades of misinformation is never far from our priorities (even as the play continues to find new audiences), the universal hope is that we'll all be able to set the controversies aside at least long enough for everybody involved to enjoy this particular occasion.

August 26, 2012

With the news of Neil Armstrong's passing yesterday
, I am reminded that what always most impressed me about the moon landing in 1969 was not the fact of the landing itself, but the fact that more than half-a-billion people on earth witnessed the event via television - still the largest audience ever assembled for single event on earth.

June 27, 2011

Now theater goers in Australia can hear Aaron Sorkin's twisted take on history, where "priority of invention" is awarded to the guy who actually LOST the case.

Thankfully theatre goers will have a little help keeping track of proceedings, with a central narrator setting up each scene to avoid confusion. “One of the characters will address the audience so they will easily understand what is going on,” Ryan explains.

Playing fast and loose with the historical facts, Ryan admits that the play contains an intriguing combination “of what did and did not happen”.

Unfortunately, none of the characters comes out on stage and says, "that's not what happened." Oh, yeah, the Sarnoff character comes out and says he can't really remember how any of the litigation turned out, which is a ridiculous summation.

Sarnoff, RCA, and Zworykin lost all the litigation with Farnsworth that mattered, to the point that RCA wound up paying Farnsworth patent royalties for the first time in its corporate history. But you will never learn that from sitting through "The Farnsworth Invention."

February 01, 2011

I got a really interesting e-mail message last week from a reader of The Boy Who Invented Televisiontelling the unlikely tale of the day William Randolph Hearst almost took an interest in Philo T. Farnsworth's little invention.

Craig Faulkner ([email protected]) writes:

My maternal grandfather, R.L. Litchfield, was a longtime employee and close personal friend of William Randolph Hearst. Among his ancillary duties as an executive in the Hearst newspaper empire, my ‘Pops’ would also assist with fielding and giving Mr. Hearst his opinion on the many requests which would regularly be submitted for financial backing of various and sundry enterprises. Pops traveled widely and saw much. In his later years he would sometimes invite my young son and me to sit at the end of his bed and he would tell us stories about the many interesting people and places he had known. Almost invariably my son would chime in with a request for his favorite: “Pops, tell us again about the man who invented the television.”

One day in the late 1920’s Mr. Hearst [or Randy, as Pops called him] rang him on the phone at the office with a request that he go check out an inventor who had a laboratory over on Green Street, there in San Francisco. The inventor, one Philo T. Farnsworth had an electrical device which, “he says can broadcast pictures through the air. He wants me to finance the further development and eventual commercial production of the thing. Litch,” [as Randy called my Pops] “go over there and take a look at this fellow and his gadget and tell me what you think, will you.”

So my grandfather rounded up one of his associates who knew a little something about electricity and off they went. After the brief formal greetings, Philo asked the one man to stand next to a black box with a hole in the side in front of some extremely bright lights while he took my Pops into an adjacent area. There, on a little tiny glass screen, was an image of the other man standing nearby. Pops said the two of them looked the apparatus over very carefully and determined that there were no wires connecting the two devices.